of thoughts. She wanted to be a musician too badly to ever be able to accept that it might not happen.
And now, the accordionist was finished. Out he walked, his young face flushed, hurrying towards his mother. The woman rose on her toes and ran a hand through the young man’s hair – it was a hesitant, self-conscious sort of gesture, but she couldn’t help herself: that tall young man used to be her little boy, after all. Sarah looked away, a stab of pain through her heart.
Mum, you should have been here with me.
“Sarah Midnight.”
It was her turn. No time to remember the past, no time to think of anything that hurt. It was time for her music to make its mark, at last.
Sarah picked up her cello and walked into the audition room, heart steady, eyes clear. All of a sudden, her nerves were gone.
All of a sudden, she believed.
“So, how do you think it went?” Aunt Juliet stirred her cappuccino. The Glasgow city centre was bustling with early Christmas shoppers. They had been lucky to find a seat in the John Lewis café.
Sarah shrugged, staring into her hazelnut latte. She was tired after the strain of the morning, but buzzing with the excitement of it. Her dream was so close she could almost touch it. “I don’t know. I can’t really say. It went well, I think. I just need to wait for the letter now.”
Sarah caught Juliet looking at her hands, red and rough. She curled them into fists, trying to hide them away. “My eczema is back,” she whispered. She had lied about her hands so many times it had become an alternative truth. Sarah’s obsessive cleaning rituals were an open secret, but one she had always refused to discuss.
Juliet nodded, stirring her cappuccino.
Sarah looked away and out of the window at the steps of the Royal Concert Hall. A small group of tourists reading a map, a few seagulls, and a bit further down, a little band of long-haired, kilted pipers and drummers. A sudden memory came back to her: Harry, or the man she used to know as Harry, rubbing cream tenderly into her chapped hands. The sadness of the reverie must have been visible on her face, because Juliet reached out to her and touched her hair gently. Aunt Juliet would never stop trying to do what Sarah’s mother should have done.
She cupped Sarah’s cheek briefly. “Listen, why don’t I treat you to something new to wear? It was a big day, you deserve it.”
“It’s OK, Aunt Juliet, really.”
The older woman pursed her lips. “All right. Maybe you and Bryony could come up to the house later? I’m sure your friend would love to know how your audition went. How is she?”
“I haven’t spoken to her in a while.”
Juliet was astonished. “You haven’t spoken to Bryony in a while?” Sarah and Bryony had been inseparable since they were in nursery. Still, since her best friend Leigh’s death … nothing had been the same.
A pause, with Sarah taking a sip of her latte, glad of the chance to hide her face behind her long black hair.
“Sarah …” Juliet continued. Sarah knew at once what was coming. “Any news of Harry?”
Harry is dead.
Sarah looked out of the window, her gaze resting on the Christmas lights hung across Buchanan Street. “He should come back soon,” she replied without missing a beat. “I spoke to him last night.” A lie, of course. Lying was something the Midnight family was exceptionally good at. “And he says he has more or less done all he needs to do in London.”
“That’s great news. So when is he coming back?” Juliet insisted.
“Like I said, soon.”
Juliet raised her eyebrows. “Before or after Christmas?”
“After, probably.”
Juliet sat back and sighed. “Sarah, that’s over two weeks away. You know you can’t stay in that house alone, it’s stated in your parents’ will.”
“Well, who’ll tell the solicitor? Nobody. Unless you do.”
“You know I agree with James’s and … Anne’s decision.” Juliet closed her eyes briefly. She still found it difficult to mention her dead sister’s name. “You can’t live alone. It’s not safe.”
“Two months is not long. And anyway, I’m going to Islay for Christmas.” Now was as good a time as any to tell her aunt that piece of news.
Juliet frowned. “What? On your own?”
“No, of course not. With Nicholas.” She made it sound as if she were surprised her aunt hadn’t worked that out for herself. She hadn’t asked Nicholas yet, but she